


Ghosts and Shadows

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Prompt Fill, Roxas is such an angry child, actually mid-series for once, but there's a first time for everything, i don't usually write sora's heart adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: “Just tell me,” he implored gently: “what’re you looking for?”Roxas wavered. Axel, the rest of the Organization, the man in Twilight Town, even… even somebody else, he couldn’t remember who… They were all so busy with their own intentions and plans that they either pushed him away or strung him along, sometimes both. Naminé had been different -- she gave him answers when nobody else would -- but even then… When had anybody ever asked him what he wanted?Roxas + Ventus.





	Ghosts and Shadows

“Roxas! _Wait--!”_

A hand closed around Roxas’ wrist and stopped him in his tracks. The grip was firm and tight -- authoritative, not beseeching -- but without hurting. He didn’t turn around.

“Roxas, listen,” the voice behind that hand pleaded. “Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” was Roxas’ flat, quiet reply. “Let go.”

For an immeasurable moment in time -- if time even passed here -- there again fell that eerie silence. The waves lapping at the shore, the breeze stirring the palm trees, the outlines of gulls soaring far overhead… none of them made a sound. They had never made a sound, not once in the undefined space of time since Roxas had found himself here. It was like a dream, except the glaring sun and sparkling sand were too bright, too sharp. The grip on his arm was too solid and real.

“C’mon, just… talk to me.” The request, though harmless, made Roxas’ temper flare again. This guy _always_ wanted to talk. He always had something to say, something positive and cheerful and calm -- but Roxas only perceived that attitude as resignation. _He_ had given up and accepted the fate of being stuck here, idealizing some eventual mercy on Sora’s part; but while Roxas was naive in a lot of ways, he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was nobody left to trust here but himself.

Slowly, Roxas finally turned around partway, but he didn’t back down to ease the tension along their arms. The face looking back at him smiled hopefully -- a face that probably should have shocked him a lot more than it had the first time he saw it, but he had never been in the habit of looking into a mirror regularly. Coming across a face identical to his own had been startling and confusing, but probably not as shell-shocking as it would have been for some people. Normal people.

But Ventus, too, was arguably far from normal. He took this place in stride, despite having been here for so long. He spoke of Sora fondly, despite admitting that he didn’t “exactly” know him, whatever that meant. And sometimes Roxas heard him talking out loud, as though in conversation with somebody, but every time he looked there was nobody else there and Ventus would give a sad smile and an awkward laugh and brush it off.

“What’re you gonna do?” Ventus pressed. “What d’you think you _can_ do from here?”

“He’s close.” Roxas wrinkled his nose, his stare turning distant even as it stayed on Ventus. Here, he could _always_ feel Sora, but he was always distant, like somebody just outside of speaking distance that he couldn’t reach. Now… now he was nearby. Roxas knew where he was -- where they _all_ were -- he felt the chilly touch of the World That Never Was, and something about that atmosphere put Sora closer to them -- or maybe they were closer to him. Roxas was certain he could reach him now, that all his anger and grief could finally _go_ somewhere.

That remark wasn’t really an answer, but Ventus was patient. He had to be after this long. “Even if you can talk to ‘im… then what?”

Roxas’ hands curled into fists. He didn’t want to _talk_ to Sora. Despite his silence, or maybe because of it, Ventus must have detected his intention because he frowned. Roxas turned away again, indifferent and indicating he was done with the conversation. He’d thought, at first, that Ventus would understand him -- he seemed like the only one who could -- but it was clear they were too different. Either Ventus was too forgiving and laidback, or he hadn’t lost enough to be angry. He couldn’t possibly have understood how Roxas felt, not with that constant, blithe cheeriness, which meant that Roxas was once again alone and taking matters into his own hands.

Get to Sora. It was the only thing he could think of. The only thing to do besides walking in circles here.

“Roxas…” Ventus tried again. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta hear me out. There’s… there’s somethin’ you’re missing. I don’t think you can see it as long as you’re mad like th--” His voice cut off with a small sound of surprise, his fingers tensing in the same second, as a flash of light and sound of metal interrupted him. Slowly, Roxas looked over his shoulder, the Keyblade in his right hand staying low at his side.

_“Let. Go.”_ It wasn’t up for debate.

Ventus met his gaze with an uncertain, concerned one -- but it quickly hardened as his frown deepened. “No.”

_Why… Why does **everybody** try to tell me what to do--_

In a swift and sudden motion Roxas pivoted around and wrenched his arm free of Ventus’ grasp, his second Keyblade flashing into his hand. With nothing short of a fighter’s instinct Ventus retreated a couple steps with a solemn glare, shifting his stance and reaching out to the side to summon his own weapon -- but he didn’t. Instead his attention was drawn to the latter of Roxas’ Keyblades, and something about it seemed to give him pause. He stared at the white blade, confused and thoughtful -- and as odd as that was, Roxas was out of patience. He didn’t ask for an explanation; he didn’t _want_ one.

“I’m going,” he repeated in a snap. “I don’t care who -- or _what_ you are. _Don’t_ get in my way.”

That drew Ventus’ stare back to his face, and for a long, uncertain moment neither of them moved. Then, finally, Ventus straightened up again into his usual easy posture, but his head twitched towards his right shoulder and he glanced aside, as if listening to something behind him. After another few seconds he turned to Roxas fully, but not before stealing a glimpse at each Keyblade one more time.

“Okay...” He was quiet. Roxas wasn’t sure whether the remark was meant for him or just a thought spoken aloud. “Maybe… it’s the only way,” Ventus murmured. He sounded… sad. And the next look he gave Roxas matched the tone, although there was something resigned in it. “Just tell me,” he implored gently: “what’re you looking for?”

Roxas wavered. Axel, the rest of the Organization, the man in Twilight Town, even… even somebody else, he couldn’t remember who… They were all so busy with their own intentions and plans that they either pushed him away or strung him along, sometimes both. Naminé had been different -- she gave him answers when nobody else would -- but even then… When had anybody ever asked him what he wanted?

More importantly… what _did_ he want, really?

“...Anything,” he answered quietly, gruffly. “Answers. Proof that… he’s the right one.”

“The right one...?”

Roxas gave a sharp, stiff nod. “He was chosen. Not me. I need… I need to know why.” His fingers tightened around his hilts until his palms stung. “That’s the very _least_ he can do for me.”

“Roxas -- you gotta ask yourself, what’s really most important to you?” Ventus challenged suddenly. “Isn’t there somethin’ else? Somethin’ that matters more than answers?”

_Something… else?_ What kind of question was that?

“No,” Roxas answered, but his doubt showed. “Why would there be? What d’you know? You don’t _know_ me.”

“I don’t,” Ventus agreed, “but somebody else does. Somebody who’s worried about you.” As he spoke, the air around him seemed to shimmer and bend slightly. Behind him, something dark -- a shadow, about as tall as he was -- blinked into view, but when Roxas tried to look at it directly, it disappeared. “You gotta try and remember,” Ventus was saying. “I know you haven’t lost it. Nobody would lose memories that important--”

“ _Enough!_ ”

Ventus was no better than the others. Claiming to care but talking in vague terms, refusing to be straight with him… Roxas was done with it. All of it. He spun around and tore off down the beach, kicking up sand as he went. He didn’t look back to see if Ventus tried to grab him again, but he could already tell he wasn’t following.

As he approached the end of the shore, the point at which he would have to turn the corner and take the door through that wooden structure, the colors around him started to fade: the sky, the sand, the water, it all slipped into a grey hue that continued to darken, until he was finally running through an empty blackness.

Still that pull on his heart remained. He kept running, trusting it to take him where he wanted to go.

* * *

Ven continued to stare down the beach long after Roxas was gone. No, “gone” wasn’t right -- he was still close. Ven could still feel him. He was just elsewhere.

“You sure that was the right thing?” he wondered. “I could’ve stopped him.”

“I don’t think you could have.” Soft footsteps crunched gently over the sand until the second presence stepped up beside him. “Not without the two of you getting hurt… and he’d just look for another opportunity, anyway.”

Ven hummed unhappily. “But Sora…”

“He’ll be okay.” That was said with a smile. “They both will. Roxas knows who he is, deep down… I think that’s the real ‘answer’ he’s looking for.”

“Huh… You know ‘im really well, don’t you?”

“Mm. But I also know what he’s going through.” There was a pause. “Ven… I’m sorry for asking so much of you. But if he never remembers--”

“I’m sure he will,” said Ven resolutely. “I bet it’s just like you said: he just has to work through everything he’s feeling first.”

That prompted a nod. “I hope so. But… if that isn’t the case… and you’re still the only one who can see me… Roxas is going to need a friend.”

For another moment neither of them spoke. Then Ven nodded with an affirmative sound. “Right. I’ll help him out.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

When Roxas returned, he found the brightness of the beach was no longer blinding. This time he felt the touch of the sun’s rays on his face and neck -- not hot, but warm. Welcoming.

Ventus descended on him in a heartbeat, bolting across the sand to slide to a halt in front of him. “Roxas! What--” He stopped short, staring wide-eyed at Roxas’ face -- and the small half-smile it wore. “Roxas…?”

“It’s okay.” Turning to look out over the waters, Roxas realized he had never really taken them in. He hadn’t appreciated the splash of cheerful color that the World That Never Was had lacked; he hadn’t really considered what a change in tone it was from the perpetual, sleepy sunset of Twilight Town. He liked both. “I get it now.”

“What happened?” asked Ventus cautiously. “Did you actually meet him?”

“Yeah…” Roxas thought back for a moment to what had transpired: a brutal and angry confrontation that had seemed to both last forever and end in an instant. Only a handful of words, all of which had only meant anything to himself. And a fight that he didn’t mind having lost. “It wasn’t what I expected,” he admitted.

“So… did you find what you were looking for? Answers?”

Roxas hesitated, and then looked back to Ventus as he nodded lightly. “Yeah, actually. I did.” It was all right now. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t sad, that he didn’t miss Axel or still sting inside from how fast his life had gone downhill to land him here… but that dark, crushing weight in his chest was gone. He no longer felt like he needed to lash out. He no longer felt _angry_. Maybe that was why this beach seemed so much clearer to him now. Maybe his feelings -- because that’s what they were, he _felt_ things, Nobody or not, _heart_ or not -- maybe they had blinded him before. And now…

Now he could see.

He started to say something else to Ventus, but stopped when he noticed something behind him. Doing a double-take, Roxas realized it was a second figure. Standing further back, dressed in the same black coat as himself, hands folded in front of her hips as she watched and waited as though she had been there the whole time--

Roxas stared. Ventus picked up on it, followed his gaze, and then quickly stepped back and out of the way with a small, knowing smile of his own. Roxas barely noticed him, because he was busy wondering why his chest ached and his eyes began to sting as he went on watching the strange girl, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar…

The gentle touch on his back nearly made him jump. He heard Ventus speak just behind his shoulder. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? It’s been awhile since you’ve seen her.”

“Wh…” Roxas had to swallow and try again. His throat felt thick, and the lump in the middle of it made his voice come out deeper than usual. “Who is…?”

“She’s one of your best friends, right?”

The girl smiled at that, but it looked like an uncertain expression. She otherwise didn’t budge, and her eyes stayed on Roxas.

“My best…?” Roxas echoed, his voice hushed now. A strange sensation shot up through his neck, his skull, and into his temples, making him stumble forward as he expected to be hit with pain -- but instead it was only warmth, gentle and comforting but also tinged with grief, and with it came words and voices, pictures and sounds and…

Her.

Blanks that he hadn’t even realized were blanks -- they began to fill in, nearly overwhelming him, but he felt Ventus’ firm hand on his bicep, holding him up -- but it did nothing for the strange pounding in his ears, his chest, or the hot, wet tracks that ran unbidden down his face. There was no stopping any of that.

Roxas tried to speak, but only managed a shuddering breath. He swallowed again, hard. “Xi… _Xion!_ ” He forced his dizzy head up, blinking through blurry eyes, and found her standing directly in front of him. She, too, had tears on her face and a tremble in her shoulders -- but she smiled through every second of it.

“Roxas…”

He had forgotten her. Even after remembering so much… he had forgotten all about her and hadn’t even realized it. That was the only thing that made him pause right then, that kept him from rushing forward to try and make it up to her. How could he possibly have forgotten _her_ , one of his best…? What kind of person -- what kind of _friend_ would…

“Roxas.” Ventus this time. He leaned in to catch Roxas’ eye, still holding his arm. Still smiling. Despite always having something to say, now he was silent -- but it was fitting, somehow. Roxas took more simple strength from that hand on his arm, more reassurance from that gaze, than he probably could have from any positive or encouraging thing Ventus might have said right then. For the first time since meeting him, Roxas suddenly wondered if Ventus did understand him, at least a little. Or maybe even more than that.

He looked at Xion again, who was still watching him, and waiting, as she must have done for a long time now. Not alone, thanks to Ventus, but still without her best friends. Still forgotten.

Roxas wasn’t sure what pushed him to the gesture -- he certainly hadn’t been familiar with it during his time in the Organization; maybe it was some fragment of his fake, broken memories. Maybe it was something else. He didn’t stop to think or even care -- the only thing that seemed _right_ in that moment was to stagger forward and clumsily throw his arms around her. She was solid and warm. She was real.

He felt her return the hug tightly as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“You remember…”


End file.
